Growing up Gay. Scars that turn into Spikes.

The younger years of our lives shape our neural pathways, and influence our behavior and attitudes for the rest of our lives. A renowned psychiatrist once said: "give me a boy at 7 and Ill give you the man at 47"  Your personality is strongly set from an early age and our experiences and upbringing leave indelible marks on our psyche forever.

Sometimes when i'm alone laying in bed I think about the choices I've made, a snide remark here, a mean look there, A cruel outburst on an unsuspecting service worker.Whatever the reason I usually regret it. The Machiavellian plotting I've done, or the backhanded compliments I've given all come rushing back to me reminding me what a bitch I am. I hate it.

Sometimes exploring the inner machinations that drive our own actions takes us to places in the past or theoretical events in our future. For me it's always the same two places. One of them in days gone by, the other at a point in my distant future.

Sometime in September of 2002-- Exit the bus, enter the building. Scan the hallway for important things: overt threats, escape routes, and access to help. Continue to homeroom, look back: Scan again for concealed threats, anyone that looks innocent is probably part of a scheme to humiliate or hurt you. The usual culprits are given first priority, place distance between yourself and them. Anyone you don't recognize can be analyzed later.


Sometime in the 2050s--Relaxing on the front porch of a small home deep in the country, watching the sunset. The dogs play in the grass chasing one another. Look next to you:  An empty chair.


Sometimes I hate everyone. I hate everyone that looks at me the wrong way, their tone of voice is off. Are they trying to ridicule me like they did? Do they think I'm  a piece of fag trash? I will show them.This bitter anger towards the world eats through me like a bubbling, toxic, caustic solution.

 It seeps out of me when I sleep and washes over my eyes. I wake up to ash and dust, breath in the chemicals. Turn on the news: it  looks like the apocalypse is imminent. Concentration camps, experiments against humanity, I bet I'll wind up in a gas chamber before too long. Sip my chemical brew of coffee, the titanium dioxide and tetrazine 102 seep into my cells. Heat up some toast, the genetically modified strands of wheat DNA bind to and sabotage my cellular structures effectively securing my chance of getting cancer someday.

Pulling into the parking garage at the debt trap that is college. That bitch walking down the stairs in front of me is the same cunt who cut me off earlier in traffic. She's fat. Honking wasn't enough. She needs punished. Let her know she is a rude bitch of a woman. Call her out on her disgusting physique. Ruin her morning.

Suffer through a class I hate. I'm paying for this? This windbag of a professor is a foreign piece of trash, he goes home and laughs at me. I'm becoming an indentured wage slave and my borrowed money goes into his pocket.

Get home, resent my mother for not being supportive. Retreat into my room, think about all the ways the world could end, worry about earthquakes, and home invasions. Delude myself into thinking I'm justified in my outlook on life.

Lay in bed at night and hate myself for not appreciating the great life I have.

Each day follows a similar blueprint.

Breaking this cycle sometimes seems impossible.Its like bleaching the brain, rewiring the neural patterns that have etched their way through my cortex for years.

I need to break the cycle. I pray that one day I'll be free. I wont be the little gay boy looking for an escape from the bullies or plotting his revenge. I'll get there, I hope I don't lose the people I care about in the meantime. The scars have turned into spikes and I need to remove them.

Shabby-Chic: My Style Evolution

Perhaps the biggest influence on my current style is my experience as a student in the sciences. I am a creative soul trapped in a quantitative world of equations, numbers, diagrams, theorems, and constants.

The regrets I may or may not have about choosing my current field aside, I realized that almost everyone is finding themselves in this "grid" of numbers. Everything is quantized, measured, recorded, analyzed, and controlled. There is very little about our lives that is organic anymore. Exponential increases in technology and steady urbanization has moved the majority of our populations into cities. Rigid landscapes of organized streets, asphalt wastelands, and concrete buildings.

 As you return from working in your cubicle to your home in the suburbs you climb into a 3-ton block of  steel and glass and sit with a thousand other 3 ton blocks for hours. 

Until you get home and pop in a pre-packaged meal... cooking it from the inside out as the atoms of the preservatives of 3-tert-butyl-4-hydoxyanisole and 2-tert-butyl-4-hydroxanisole speed up and super-heat themselves as they are struck by radio waves of roughly 2.45 gigahertz.

 You set your alarm to wake up up at a precise minute in time the next morning and you begin it all over again.

 I understand the benefits of technology and progress, however I still live in place in my mind where Tiger Lilly's line sunny dirt roads and where you wake up with the natural circadian rhythms nature gave you, rising up to greet the sun and blue skies.

After work you can return to a hot meal cooked with ingredients that your grandmother would recognize. Finally falling into night's indigo hue in a bed full of soft feather-filled silk pillows. 

This crumpled linen looks absolutely heavenly.

I know life is not made up of sugar, vanilla and lavender but it should be. It is a sad truth that it isn't and never will be. So we should endeavor to make it so at least in the sanctuary of our own homes. The cold and ugliness so happy to rear its head outside our front stoops has no business going an centimeter further. 

Any designer will tell you that their personal style is defined by their inspirations and by their experiences. I am not a professional interior designer, however my personal style is definitely that was certainly defined by the latter. I have always had a lover affair with white; clean, fresh, pure. It is also sterile and cold, as a counterbalance incorporating pastel hues if pink, blue, and purple warm things up.

This is where my inspiration comes from. Creating a place that is yours. Where you are safe and happy. Whatever that might be. For myself it is A loving partner and a beautiful, organic safe haven. Gary Snyder said it best: "Nature is not a place to visit, it is home". 

This idea is one of the hallmarks of the shabby-chic design philosophy. For my own brand of shabby-chic I draw inspiration frequently from designers like Rachel Ashwell. Although my childhood is probably my biggest inspiration. I spent my carefree youth in the green rolling hills of southeast Ohio. Roads lined with wildflowers and massive, ancient trees with lush green canopies and sweet-scented orchards filled with ripe fruit. Summertime in Ohio and my childhood home is still a frequent image that flashes through my mind almost daily. I drew on this and still do when I decorate my home. 

My old front yard

Below are some photos of my room, I used a pastel and relaxing pink on the walls and incorporated the things that I thought were beautiful and yet functional. 

Candle Holder and vintage books.

A beautiful memento box.

Butterflies and Flowers just make me happy

Stationary is another thing I have a penchant for collecting

I love baking sweets, these cookbooks just look yummy

Another view of my room.

Gorgeous french-provincial shelf.

Soft white furniture and appliances, peach walls, flowers, vanilla candles, and pretty french style shelves make up my home life. They are beautiful and functional. I treasure them and you should find what is beautiful to you and treasure that. Remember what is most important though. The people who care about us and want positive things for us are what really matters. To me it is my loving, supportive partner who always does what he can to make my life better. He is my rock and I love him, soon we will be taking on the world together and I can't wait to make a home together with him. Remember the important things: Love, Home, Health, and Family.   

Googie Architecture: A reflection of the space age.

I suspect I'm not alone when I say that I am fascinated by the 1950s. The Eisenhower Era was one where major plot lines such as the atomic age, space age and the golden Hollywood age coalesced to form a very interesting and unforgettable chapter in the book of history, specifically American history. One can not help but be nostalgic for the images of 5 cent glass Coke bottles, pink Cadillacs, and legends of Hollywood swirling on the black and white screens of yesterday. The 50s were a cheerful pastel melange of new modern convenience, carefree consumerism, car culture, and renewed artistic attitudes that were badly craved in the immediate post WWII era. Abstract expressionism gained recognition in this period with noted artists such as William de Kooning, Jackson Polluck, and Franz Kline. All of these elements are reflected in the very distinctive architecture now labeled as "50s style" architecture which originated in southern California during the late 40s.


The Googie style buildings featured bold angles, pastel cheery colors, cantilevered roofs, large plate glass windows and pop culture imagery. Imagine "The Jetsons" meets real life. Some famous structures still exist, including the Theme building at LAX airport and the Space Needle (arguably our country's greatest needle) In Seattle. Unfortunately most contemporary architecture schools of thought regard Googie style buildings as too flashy and frivolous. In the 90s some effort was made to preserve famous buildings with this style however it remains a rare sight today.